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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24059521">Temptation Greets You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwit/pseuds/ghostwit'>ghostwit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Piece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>:| sorry, Asphyxiation, Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, Doflamingo ping pongs affectionate and manic while Crocodile is (fond) against his will, Explicit Sexual Content, I guessss., I;m sorry, Like 1300 words of just blowjob. yah., M/M, No S&amp;M this time at least. ah., Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Snowballing, That tag's so funny . very excited I get to use that., Top 10 Scattered Birdbrain Moments, Under-negotiated Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:29:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24059521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwit/pseuds/ghostwit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Doflamingo hisses, the sound buzzing up into his skull as it strains from the corner of his mouth, head dipping low to face Crocodile with a dangerous jolt.</p><p>"I," he punctuates every syllable, lips parted wide to brandish neat, white fangs, and his eyes blown even wider, frenzied, "want. you." </p><p>(The panic will fall down around you.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Crocodile/Donquixote Doflamingo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Temptation Greets You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(walks into the tag after over a month) Y'all want some porn?</p><p>Quick CW for someone getting unexpectedly choked out and blacking out for a split second if that'll bother you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>        Doflamingo hisses, the sound buzzing up into his skull as it strains from the corner of his mouth, head dipping low to face Crocodile with a dangerous jolt.</p><p>        "I," he punctuates every syllable, lips parted wide to brandish neat, white fangs, and his eyes blown even wider, frenzied, "want. you." </p><p>        Crocodile laughs, and one of Doflamingo's elbows gives a jerk with each smooth roll of <em> ku-ha-ha-ha </em> over him spilling over him like fragrant cigar smoke, muscles tightening and loosening sporadically around itching bones aching to be freed.</p><p>        "So bad," Doflamingo whines with a needy frown and the knitting of his eyebrows, reaching up to drag languid fingers over his face, digging deep in the soft trenches of his under eyes and scoring the feverish skin of his cheeks with white lines. Crocodile blinks slow, turning his head so he doesn't have to watch his own hand come up, pressing over one of Doflamingo's to steady quivering fingers.</p><p>        "Petulant," he mutters, swatting them away from the ridge of his cheekbones as nails begin to dig into flesh. </p><p>        "Lay down." </p><p>        Doflamingo <em> howls </em> at the command, ecstatic, and Crocodile feels himself flare with anger, his own shoulders tightening, coat swinging as he averts his gaze with a pivot. The younger pops up on his heels from where he’d previously been lurching over Crocodile with a wolfish grin, ramrod straight, and simply lets himself fall back with a loud <em> pwoomf </em>, horrendous coat and the plush of high denier sheets absorbing the brunt of his weight. The floor vibrates, and Crocodile feels it reverberate through his soles as he steps across the meticulously polished hardwood. Crocodile’s not quite sentimental enough to mourn the ruination of fine things. </p><p>        “Just for today,” he mutters, tugging roughly at his belt, ignoring the childish display from the other warlord. Doflamingo smiles so wide Crocodile’s surprised the skin’s not swelling around his cheeks, splitting and tearing in bloody shreds all the way up to his ears. </p><p>        “Hee hee,” Doflamingo’s tongue lolls from his mouth a little, makes Crocodile’s nose twitch in irritation, "if it’s gotta be anyone, it’d be you for sure, you cold bastard.” </p><p>        He’s rambling, murmuring and gesticulating with his forearms and twitching, languid fingers. His back is still straight, biceps pressing hard into silken fabric, toes pointed firmly skyward. </p><p>        “You do know you are sick, right?” Crocodile mutters, parting Doflamingo’s knobby knees with a nudge of his hook, bringing his own to settle between them. The drag of fabric on fabric rasps loud. </p><p>        That motion, the noise, starts up some odd trilling deep in the blonde’s throat when he nods furiously in reply, following up from the pit of his lungs and humming between his now sealed lips. His wrists swivel hard, cracking a little below the skin as he grasps air, urging the older man closer, to settle higher between his legs, something he obliges. Crocodile’s hand comes up to his face again, tracing his jaw and reaching up into his hairline. Manicured nails press with a pleasant insistency along his scalp, tracing the little whorls of his hair, and the touch buzzes out across his skin, calming. His lungs rattle. </p><p>        “You sure are stupid,” fingers firm, <em> too firm, </em> on the column of his throat, all heavy with gold, everything focused down to the blown-out ellipses of Crocodile’s pupils, the beginnings of a wry smirk gracing the corners of his lips. He gasps (tries to, at least), a stuttering stop to his excited trilling diffused into the fizzling of an anxious arousal, blood pulsing hard against the iron grip of Crocodile’s hand over the rhythmically bulging veins in his throat in a hurried surge to reach his brain. The finality, yes, the surge of panicked elation overcoming him while Crocodile looms with his cruel, jagged stitching makes his head spin with the last of its oxygen reserves. Fuck, fuck, <em> come on </em>. Twelve seconds in, he’s not sure where the numbers are coming from, flying into his head through the haze with the controlled flap of Crocodile’s mouth, the parting of lips to show the edge of a pink velvet interior and lethal tongue before it’s hidden away again, only to open. His limbs feel loose and distant, seconds stretching to agonizing minutes, hours, years.</p><p>        He chokes around another gasp, the older man’s name, maybe, and his hands fly up to--and when he comes to, Crocodile’s slid low between his legs, working Doflamingo’s garish pants open with glinting teeth (what a treat, at the very least), hook tucked under a knee that the blonde doesn’t remember bending. </p><p>        “Hey,” his voice is raspy, irritation giving it a lucid edge, “don’t kill my mood,” he pouts and stretches his abdomen, uncoiling the tension in his spine and props himself up against a pair of pillows he feels out with a set of strings. </p><p>        “Don’t be such a baby,” Crocodile huffs, pressing the flat of his tongue to the v-cut of the younger’s abs, letting it drag fine blond hair against his mouth when he stretches. His fingers work into Crocodile’s hair, mussing it in reprimand. A mistake, maybe, with the way the strands fall elegant and stark over the pale skin of his face, creating refreshing right angles across the scar spanning his cheeks, with the feeling it stirs low in his belly and the way it sets him giggling again. </p><p>        “You’re so pretty,” he coos and wiggles his toes, annoyance all but washed away in the giddiness of having Crocodile sliding his pants down around his thighs--annoyingly reflective things they are, with their plasticine sheen, casting an unpleasantly distracting light over the slow wind of tongue and teeth Doflamingo tries so hard to keep his eyes fixed on. His cock twitches. </p><p>        Crocodile groans in annoyance, mouthing in that wonderful dry way against the jut of a hip bone, “Thought that would’ve shut you up some.” </p><p>        “You should know me better than that, pretty boy,” he hums, muttering an echo of his own words, <em> pretty boy, pretty boy, </em>greedy hands roaming his scalp when he reaches under the tent formed by his pants that obscures most of Crocodile from his view. His hair is surprisingly soft, oiled with something luxurious feeling that leaves the ghost of a greased moisture on his palms. He wants to know if it smells of anything, tease his reptile some more, maybe, but the thought of letting his hands leave the curve of the older’s skull is unpalatable enough to him to make his pulse racket up. The edges of his vision are still colored with frenzy.</p><p>        Crocodile’s skin is cool where he noses against Doflamingo’s stomach--in a way, almost chaste, almost affectionate if not for the bulge of the other warlord’s unclothed erection pressing against his Adam’s apple and the unkind grimace twisting his face--the hook even more so as it leaches heat from the sweaty bend of Doflamingo’s knee.</p><p>        It’s an awkward position, the way the orange fabric shelters him, bunched across his shoulder blades to limit both their ranges of motion and his arm is folded beneath himself to keep the other’s legs open and relatively unwounded (not that Doflamingo would mind, a delirious effervescence rising at the thought of the meat of his thighs lain bare in glistening reds and pinks, though the consideration is enough to warm his core), but even like this, Doflamingo knows better than to tease him for it.</p><p>        “Hey, handsome,” an easy smile spans his face, and Crocodile’s miles away, face returned to a resting neutral from the period of relative silence, biting purpling marks into his hips and thighs. Doflamingo’s pants crinkle loudly around him. “Do you wanna, uh,” Doflamingo cants his hips, the press of his cock against Crocodile’s throat making him shiver. </p><p>        “Do I?” Crocodile sneers, “Do you think you’re in any position to be making demands?” Still, he slides down a little to accommodate, running a closed mouth along the side of his dick, still painfully hard for no real reason, with just enough pressure to send mounting sparks crawling Doflamingo’s skin. He presses a loud kiss to the head, runs the moisture he finds there back down to the base with another slide of his lips. Doflamingo sighs loud. </p><p>        “Demands, Croco?” he croaks as Crocodile’s lips part again. “Always so aggressive,” he can feel the muscles in his forearms tense and fingers tighten their twitching grip when Crocodile takes him in his widened mouth, lets him lay over his flattened tongue as he somehow fills out even further and feel the slow intake of breath around the obtrusion as he rests, “it was just a request.” He strains to keep his voice even with the taunting, oscillating his hips just the slightest. </p><p>        Some nights (rare as they are), Crocodile impressively takes all of him with the aid of some oft shirked hunger, sharp nose pressed flush into his abdomen to take in ragged, deep breaths right against the skin, Doflamingo eager to swallow them up with the crush of his hips. Tonight is not one of them, Doflamingo too far lost in the absent, spiking trawling of his own head and letting Crocodile’s blunt touch tether him to, if not clarity, some sense of reality.</p><p>        Crocodile curls his tongue in response to the teasing remark, the way Doflamingo’s voice is bled of its manic edge causing a sigh to huff from his nostrils. His mouth seals, plush on sensitive skin, and Doflamingo’s struck with the overwhelming sense of <em> heat </em> , the stuffiness of it. He bobs his head once, ducking his head before looking to Doflamingo. Letting--even that is a <em> let </em>, a granting of--him do the work, it seems. He’ll take that just fine.</p><p>        Doflamingo starts up a shallow rhythm, head brushing over Crocodile’s lips before just barely plunging past and into the cavern of his mouth, the slide slick and obscene. It’s barely anything, the meager attention hardly enough to keep the fire of arousal rollicking low in his gut, especially with half his cock left neglected to the open air, but the half lidded eyes, the cold of the rings braced on his inner thigh and the squeak of gold under his leg offer a sense of inundation (almost) better than Crocodile’s mouth; He’s smothered him. </p><p>        Even fully clothed and hair loosened with his legs comically half-hanging off the bed and arm most-definitely asleep under him, Doflamingo’s throat’s gone a rich claret and thighs marked with rings of teeth. It makes him tremble, the tuning of some fine string instrument until he’s made to creak and snap in the form of sinew and bone. Whatever it is, it’s <em> really </em> good, he thinks with a ragged hum. </p><p>        His legs hitch up and spread further, muscle tightening and fluttering along his inner thighs and--<em> riiip </em>, his pants part down the seam and fall in tatters over Crocodile, splitting along the outer edge to free his calves. </p><p>        “Fuck, don’t stop, fuck, hold on, please,” he whines, despite being the one to have set pace. He can’t see Crocodile’s eyes, obscured again by the garish cloth, and it sets the frantic animal buried somewhere in him whining in annoyed desperation, clawing up his intestines with a strange, distant, irrational fear mingling with the white-hot of pleasure burning slow in his core. His legs are still tensing, and he can feel the outline of the body of Crocodile’s hook digging a bruise into the flesh of his leg. Crocodile’s hand tenses over his quivering thigh, irritation, he guesses.  </p><p>        He bucks a little deeper into the older warlord’s mouth to distract him from the odd sensation of thread winding from the fingers set squarely over his scalp, aiming to cast the ruined clothing aside. It falls to the ground with a rushed flourish, and Crocodile rolls his eyes and bares fangs, features fairly limp bar the gathering moisture and handsome pink flush licking up the column of his throat and making his scar sit especially striking on his face.</p><p>        “See, see,” he murmurs, brain still chasing the tail of that desperation and letting his eyes roll back in his head. Fuck, what a treat. “You can keep going, see, it’s fine”--he cleaves his own thought, tracing back to Crocodile’s blown-out gaze--“did you want to get off?” Crocodile startles, choking a little on the next thrust and landing a ring laden slap to the already abused flesh of his inner thigh.</p><p>        “Mm, fuck, wouldn’t that be nice?” Crocodile curls tongue again, tracing a vein, attempting to derail the younger warlord for the tirade he’s come to expect. It doesn’t, only garbling his next words into strangled, animal noises, “Ha, ah, fuck, yeah, I wanna get you off.” </p><p>        “Yeah, ah, I wanna make you come,” he’s pitching up in fervor, the grip in Crocodile’s hair turning commanding, elbows jerking in time with the thrust of his hips, fast and messy enough to run the tip of his cock along Crocodile’s lips and chin on the upstrokes when he pulls out. Crocodile manages an offended growl, the rumble of it sending more sparks along Doflamingo’s spine, lifts back to strain against Doflamingo’s palms. It’s a feigned struggle, and Doflamingo enjoys the engagement. </p><p>        “Hrmm, I-fuck-I want to see your face,” he lilts, arching his back to curl over the older warlord, enjoying the way the world narrows into something sharp and fine where their skin meets. He uses his superior height to hover his chin over the grip his hands have taken, a better vantage for a more precise thrust. The lazy stroke of now-involved tongue runs a cold contrast to his hectic bucking, toes twitching and curling in mounting pleasure and heels digging into Crocodile’s back where they rest.</p><p>        “Yessss, fuck, I want to see your face when you come,” his hands are roaming again, up and down Crocodile’s scalp, mania seeming to have approached another fever pitch. The thoughts tumble with the building fire, rattling against the cage of his skull. </p><p>        “Hey, hey,” he rasps, words running together, “Jerk me off, come on, jerk me off.” Crocodile tries to pull off again and settles his hand a little higher on the other’s thigh with a roll of his forgotten shoulder, thumb twitching to just barely swipe against the side of Doflamingo’s cock. He catches the movement of his lip, manages to wick up some of the sticky moisture there to spread down the base in a translucent strand. He’s typically neat with his work, but Doflamingo’s poor aim has its own benefits.</p><p>        “Come on, come on,” Doflamingo groans at the graze of the thumb, fingers now drumming a steady storm over Crocodile’s hairline. “You know what I mean, jerk me off, jerk me off and I’ll make you come so hard your brain melts, come on,” he hisses, eyes narrowed to slits. Part of him wishes he could see Crocodile’s face right now, his imagination good enough to bring himself a couple degrees closer to the edge. </p><p>        Crocodile hums and fuck, he’s <em> so </em>close. </p><p>        “Please, please, <em> Sir </em>?” he tries, brain fried from being split between the nerve endings firing up all along his dick and carding through Crocodilian Habits to find an appeasing answer. It’s the ticket, it seems. </p><p>        Crocodile’s rings are a shock of cold when they wrap around the base, dry on dry except where his thumb had grazed the shiny streak, but the shock isn’t enough to keep his spine from straightening and throwing back until his head thuds against the headboard with a painful thump, despite the pillows flanking him. </p><p>        He finishes in Crocodile’s mouth, hard but not exceptionally so, unsurprised when the man immediately surges up between his legs to press an open-mouthed kiss to the wanton part of Doflamingo’s lips, cutting his moan into a strangled gargling as he forces his own come into his mouth with his tongue. He’s still pulsing in their laps, sputtering weakly over Crocodile’s dress pants and his own abdomen while Crocodile works him through the orgasm, using his come to slicken the steady pump of his hand, his sense of rhythm much more consistent than Doflamingo’s earlier sporadic canting of the hips (he still does this, obnoxiously, lost enough in chasing orgasm). </p><p>        “What a lame one, Croco-man,” he says, tongue glistening under his face-splitting grin with a smattering of white, endorphins flushing him into an easy high that hollows him out for affection but lends a new sense of cognizance. He uses a couple strings to lift the older’s arm to cradle his head, tuck the hook behind the smooth meeting of spine and skull, and Crocodile allows it.</p><p>        “I always manage to forget how painfully embarrassing you are to sleep with,” Crocodile mutters with derision, watching Doflamingo run his tongue over his own lips before ducking forward to lick clean the pre and saliva streaking Crocodile’s mouth and chin. Grotesque as it was, the other warlord doesn’t jitter so harshly, returns to the measured mania of his speech, so he supposes it’s a win (as to why he cares, he’s not sure and, for once, uninterested in dissecting--ignoring the rather evident emphatic throb of lust in his core). </p><p>        “Aww, don’t be so cruel,” Doflamingo coos, pressing chaste kisses over the arc of Crocodile’s scar. Feet on the ground, he rummages through the piecemeal memory of his prior thoughts. “You for sure,” he hums, happy in the most uncomplicated terms. The giddiness makes Crocodile send him another glance under his lashes that does little more than remind him to get a good look at Crocodile’s face. </p><p>        His lips are just slightly swollen, everything from the nose down made shiny, more with Doflamingo’s cleanup than anything else, but it’s still a nice sight, all messy and unkempt, made even better by the looseness of the hair that hangs in messy locks to frame his face in an inverse halo. His bracing sure did a number on that strict hairdo. </p><p>        Better yet, there’s only the barest edge of gold rimming his pupils, hunger still padding its cage beneath the composure of skin. It’s exciting, to know his reptile’s tells like this, so he funnels the energy into bundling him closer with a half-hug that’s a touch too affectionate for the older. His thighs settle over Doflamingo’s now folded legs (he sports an exhilaratingly nasty bruise from Crocodile’s hook, flesh tender enough to make him wince at Crocodile’s weight). </p><p>        “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what I promised my dear wani?” he murmurs, laying more kisses along the robust edge of Crocodile’s jaw line and winding his arms around him, puppeteer’s fingers outstretched. He tugs a little at the cuff of his pants, asking permission that’s granted by the lift of a leg. </p><p>        “You really are petulant,” Crocodile leans into a kiss, their dismal second mouth-to-mouth of the night, and Doflamingo smirks under his lips at the merry-go-round of the exchange. </p><p>        His strings work at the buttons of Crocodile’s now-soiled vest, while a free hand aims for the intimate undoing of his loosened ascot. Doflamingo licks the taste of himself out of Crocodile’s mouth with a gleefully maniacal laugh.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Had two essays to write and I dusted this off and turned it into porn instead. Alright. That's fine. </p><p>Some of this is like. painfully unsexy and that's because sex is gross. It just started really steamy and fun and devolved into this washed out thing. I think it's because I'm still fixated on word count and it ends up bloating my word count and taking away a lot of the vividness of pieces. I dunno. I also don't usually like to write Crocodile bottoming (writing that phrase is making me lose, it hold on sudgfcjsyumh) so I think that takes away some of his bite, too. </p><p>That said, I don't think the entire piece is a failure. Sure was fun to write, especially because I don't do any explicit scenes, usually. I like the idea of Doflamingo not shutting the fuck up during sex, though, ha (stupid oral fixation mf). </p><p>Let me know if you DID enjoy this absolute trainwreck, though, lol. I read and appreciate every single comment, however short or complex they may be. I sure did talk to myself a lot in this one, huh . </p><p>hazeism.tumblr.com</p></blockquote></div></div>
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